I finish school on Thursday...

and if you haven't seen "this land" yet, you're not doing yourself any favours...http://jibjab.com

I was talking with a friend of mine last night who's working on a documentary about the Christian Right and especially the Mormons in the states who control a huge voting block and peddle influence across the nation. He was telling me that a "Charitable Group" backed by the lovely Mormon Reverend Moon almost won the government contract in the States for programs to help deal with Aids in Africa, which would have included all the money the US is willing to spend to help the problem, for absinence programs like the ones that are failing miserably in US highschools. Abstinence programs. They proposed stemming the tide of aids in Africa with abstinence programs. Here's my counter proposal: we here in Canada are spending upwards of $3 billion to buy a shiny new fleet of Sikorsky H92 helicopters which apperantly offer "ground-combat payload delivery" so I vote we test the bastards by condom bombing Africa. Not a perfect solution, but I figure dropping cartons of rubbers all over the continent is at least a hell of a lot better than the same program the US is using to prevent teenage motherhood (and we can see the success rate there...). We can talk about Indonesia next. 

For my pick in best US political satire of the week, go here and click to play "This Land." Trust me.

I'm going to do school work now.

mmmsleeping in. I've been out of bed for oh about a half hour, and I really can't even remember the last time I slept this late. I was up until after 3 last night seeing the pre-opening private screening of CR Avery's latest play (hip-hopra, according to one of the guitar players) which was brilliant. Completely brilliant. And is playing all weekend and Wednesday through Sunday next week at the Railtown Theatre. And if you don't go see it you'll feel stupid and uncool when it sells out in New York and LA.

and on another event related note, anyone else planning to go down to Luminares at Trout Lake on Saturday, and if so, interested in some sort of time and location specific in-park rendez-vous? I haven't made it in ages, but this year, at last, I'm not stuck working some shitty job on festival night.

Things I've realized today:

• it is preposterously expensive to rent a vehicle
• but I am actually going to make it out of town this summer anyways
• my mother is equally esoteric regardless of what continent she's on
• and I like it
• doing yoga early in the morning is a great way to start a day
• sometimes cooler days are better (dunno if I could take another yesterday right now)

And, prompting today's question of the day, I use my CD player as my alarm clock, and have thus been experimenting with finding out my favorite song to wake up to. While this changes constantly, my favorite right now is the Beatles strawberry Field. What would be your favorite song to wake up to?

 

new template, new look, and all of the sudden, new options like being able to write in fancy COLOURS! 
Not that I'm going to get carried away all of the sudden though.

Identity crisis of the week, and I've gone and killed my comments. I tried to bring them back, but they didn't want to come. I might try again, or I might run away on vacation and never come back.

A selection of subject lines from my hotmail junkmail today. I'm not even going to guess what they were actually for. Actually, except one, which is funny because it's so obvious.

- support group 289 taxidermists
- quasiorder pilferage hippy
- # 1 Seller....Jack Rabbit Vibrator
- columbus isochronal

Now, number two is utterly beyond me. With regard to number four, our friends at google, with help from the nice folks at dictonary dot com, have the following contriibution: i·soch·ro·nal ( P ) Pronunciation Key (-skr-nl) or i·soch·ro·nous (-ns)
adj.
1. Equal in duration.
2. Characterized by or occurring at equal intervals of time.

Not that that actually helps or anything. I'm going to finish my discourse analysis that's due tonight now...

I saw an ad on TV last night for the new reality show "Who Wants to Marry My Dad." Yeeshk.

a few templates and more than several fuckups later, this should now actually work. And you'll all hate me because it isn't easy to read and so on and so forth, but these things will all come in time, and what's most important, I like the new look. If I were a blog, I might just hang out here.

and to christen the new blue format (sorry, but brown with cutsy swirls and flower stamps was starting to feel way too Loius Vuitton) here's an example of the miscellany I get up to in my composition class two nights a week. This is a "description excercise" written collaboratively (read: through much shouting and eventual resignation) by me, an upper-middle class lit major whose every second word is Derrida, and a fourty-something mother of two who I make laugh by remembering obscure eighties song names.

I was in my usual spot by the window, second table from the milk-and-sugar bar. In one hand, I held my coffee – extra dry cappuccino with a sprinkle of brown sugar melting through the foam – and in the other an unlit cigarette. I twiddled it between my fingers, but knew I couldn’t light it here, not in this ultra-PC, yuppie, Canadian coffee shop. I leaned back in my chair, the black metal atrocity obviously mass-produced for its minimalist, nouveau dot com riche aesthetic, devoid of a single thought for the unfortunate sittee; but it matched very well with the metal-bottomed glass tables that threatened to topple over with one poorly placed latte. Another poor sap walked through the doors and joined the lineup of misguided, post-hip, MEC-clothed clones, the whole crowd of them smelling like a wet dog on a bus – the inevitable result of that much damp Gortex™ in one room. Behind the counter one of the black and green clad, ever-smiling, customer’s-always-right-but-I-secretly-loathe-them-all-anyway baristas leaned forward scribbling orders in coffee-ese: half-fat, no foam, soy because-it’s-all-I-can-drink-on-this-damned-Atkin’s-diet mocha; zen-jasmine green tea with all-natural rock sugar, and so on.

The glass door swung open. In walked Trent, my favourite person, his usual dissatisfied, aloof smirk pasted across his face as if he thought a Rolling Stone photographer might jump out and snap his picture at any moment. I looked away hoping he wouldn’t notice me until after he ordered so I wouldn’t have to suffer through hearing him order the allegedly-coffee-based atrocity he always drank. Caramel latte with extra whip. As if lattes weren’t bad enough to begin with, and he had to cover his with candy like a frickin’ apple at a county fair. Just thinking about it made me groan, and he looked over. Damn. I’d blown my cover.

See, school is occasionally nothing but silliness. Although now I have to go peer review one of my classmates essay. What the crap kind of assignment is that?

last night was Agent K's annual backyard birthday shindig, and it was, as usual, full of great people, many who I haven't seen in far to long. I also got to spend a bunch of time being nostalgic and looking at old photos of life in the shed, which was good fun. Those were the days...

I don't know what my excuse is for not posting regularly lately, I mean, life is busy as usual, I just don't really know exactly why. The election was mucho drama, but it turned out pretty much exactly the way I expected it would, and all the campaign chaos is over. School is just school as usual mostly except that my prof is a bit of a sadist and the number of assignments he expects us to produce, along side a billion two or three page written excercises, is completely insane. I'm procrastinating doing class work right now... some things just don't change.

Summer time is beautiful, but it's not beautiful the way time just melts away in the summer, and then fall hits and you've done virtually none of the stuff you hoped you'd have time for in the summer. I'm having a great time going to yoga a few times a week though -- must not be permanent desk-sitting blob...